The Sentinel
by EssexDragon
Summary: Harry Potter has always protected his friends and loved ones, carrying the weight of the world for all these years. But someone has helped him shoulder these burdens. I don't own any of the characters. R


The Sentinel

She watches him sleeping. It calms her, watching him. She had gotten quite good at it over the years, watching him, watching over him. The common room is empty and quiet, save for the sounds of the popping and crackling logs in the fire. The other occupants of the room have long since retired, leaving only the two of them. She stares into the flames for a time, lost in her thoughts and then returns her gaze to his face.

His face. She has memorized his features so often she can see him clearly in her mind. Every line and curve of him. From his unruly black hair that defies even magic's attempts to tame it, to his wondrous eyes. Those eyes she could get lost in for eternity. Every time she looks into them she feels as though she leaves another small piece of her soul within them. Not that it matters. She would give everything she was and more to him if that was what he needed.

He has tried so hard to close himself off from those he cares about, but he is an open book to her. Every triumph and tragedy is clearly shown to the world, if only they would take the time to see. The way he holds himself, the way he moves. Even now, as he sleeps, he seems ready to spring into action to defend his friends. It breaks her heart to see him like this. Sleep should be a time to relax and dream of magical things and faraway places. And yet even in his dreams he finds no respite.

As if by fate he begins to toss. His hands twitch and he shivers. He moans and mumbles things. His voice sounds raspy and he screams "No! Leave them alone! It's me you want!" She sits beside him and embraces him, gently, but firmly. She cradles him as she would a child, all the while murmuring into his ear.

"Shhh…its all right"

"He won't hurt you. I wont let him."

"Rest now. I won't leave you"

"I love you."

She means every word of it too. She has loved him since that first day. Though her brothers teased her about her 'schoolgirl crush', she has always known it was deeper and more meaningful then that. She knows this was her purpose, to help him shoulder the burdens life and destiny seemed anxious to heap on his narrow shoulders. She takes solace in this fact as she strokes his face, tracing the legendary scar with a finger.

On some level he hears her, feels her presence, because the shaking subsides and he stops moaning to himself. He is damp with the sweat of terror, and she gently wipes his face with the sleeve of her pajamas. She never lets go or stops murmuring to him. Eventually he relaxes as much as he ever does and rests peacefully, breathing deeply. He has a small smile on his face, and she wishes he could smile more when he was awake. It was only these times, after she had soothed the terrors away with her love that he ever smiled anymore.

Other people loved him, she knew. Each helping in his or her own way to support and protect him. Luna, dazed and dreamy, speaking of nargles and other wondrous creatures, but with a mind like a steel trap and loyalty beyond measure. Neville Longbottom, who in another space and time, might have been in Harry's shoes. Slow to anger but quick to defend his friends and loved ones.

And then there was The Golden Trio. The Three, the group-within-the-group. She had no doubt that decades from now when the war was over and they were all old and decrepit, the friendship of The Golden Trio would still be talked about in these hallowed halls of learning. It was a thing of legend.

Her brother, Ronald Weasley, Harry's Good Right Arm. With a friendship born that day on a train, so very long ago, she had no doubt that no amount of pain or suffering, nor even Death itself, could sunder what had been built between these two young men.

And Hermione Granger. If Ron was his strength, then she was his will. Even now, there were people who said Hermione was the greatest witch of her age. And they were right. She had the sort of mind that came along once in a generation, if not even less. Everyone who knew her knew she would eventually take her places alongside the greatest wizards and witches who had ever lived. And she devoted her towering intellect to helping to prepare Harry for what she knew he would have to do.

And yet, Ginny thought to herself, where were they now? All resting recovering, preparing themselves for another day, while Harry was here, alone, tormented by his own mind. But it didn't matter. She was with him. She always would be. She knew she would take whatever affection and friendship he could let himself give, and give all that she had.

All the while she has stroked him and comforted him, and let him sleep. She rocks him gently in her arms, still whispering. It doesn't matter what she tells him on these occasions, so she makes up stories, and whispers dreams, and anything else she thinks of. Her mind wanders as she rocks him, and she wonders at her place in things. If Ron is your knight and Hermione your counselor, then what am I, she muses.

In a half remembered daze, she thinks back to something she had read once for her Muggles Studies class. Muggle kings used to have special guardians and watchmen who stood over special places and things. What were they called? Sench…senc… Sentinals! In a rush it comes back to her. They were used to guard the most valuable things and places. Always watching, always protecting, devoted to their tasks.

She looks down at the sleeping form of her love, and lowers her lips to his. The kiss is not born of passion but of infinite tenderness and devotion. She whispers, "I am your sentinel and I will protect you with everything I am." Her reply is a slight snore, which makes her smile.

For hours she sits there, until the fire burns itself out and embers are all that are left. In all that time her hands never leave him and she never stops talking to his slumbering form. She glances out a window and sees the fist hint of sunlight beginning to crack over the trees. She has been holding him the entire night. Even this does not make her let go. She continues to hold him, and protect him. His Sentinel. Ever vigilant. Ever watchful.


End file.
